Not So Alone
by Harley Wright
Summary: Sirius is dead and Harry blames himself. He's isolated himself from his friends and bad dreams keep him awake at night. Ginny shows him that he's not as alone as he thinks. Harry/Ginny.


**Disclaimer:** Harry, Ginny and everyone else belong to J.K. Rowling.

It was well past midnight as Harry Potter sat in the Gryffindor Common Room glaring at the crackling fire. Until a few months ago most people had thought he was crazy and should be locked up. Now they were back to hero-worshiping him. He was 'a lone voice of truth in hard times' or whatever rubbish the Daily Prophet was printing these days. He didn't know. He didn't really pay attention to what other people said anymore.

Sure, now everyone knew that Voldemort was back. That he wasn't mad, or lying. But that wasn't important to Harry anymore. It wasn't worth what he had lost. Because Sirius was gone. And it was his fault. If he hadn't of been so stupid as to have believed that vision. If had just listened to Hermione. If only he hadn't gone rushing off to the Ministry, then Sirius wouldn't have followed him. Then Sirius wouldn't be dead.

Sirius, who had offered him a home before he even knew him. Sirius, who had always been there, just an owl away, always ready to help Harry in anyway he could, even if it put himself at risk. Sirius, the first real family Harry had ever had. The closest thing to a father he had ever had. And now he was gone.

He'd spent the whole summer holidays cooped up in Privet Drive. Dumbledore had decided it would be too dangerous for Harry to leave. It had been a month before he'd ventured out of his room without Aunt Petunia forcing him. He'd barely eaten. Barely spoken. He'd felt so alone. But even that was better than this. Even if he'd been stuck there with nothing to do, but dwell on Sirius' death. And then there was the prophecy. _Neither can live while the other survived. _How Dumbledore expected him to defeat one of the most power wizards that had ever lived, when so many witches and wizards more powerful than himself had fail, he had no idea. Oh yeah, _love_. What was he supposed to do? Hug Voldemort to death?

His friends weren't much help. Hermione kept try to get him to talk about it, and she had bought him a booklet on 'the Five Stages of Grief." She seemed to think books could solve everything. In some ways Ron was worse. The way he kept acting like Harry was going to explode or burst into tears any moment. The way he looked at him, pity clear in his eyes. If there was one thing Harry hated it was pity.

He was tired. Tired of everything. Of how he couldn't walk down a corridor without someone staring, pointing and whispering. How a bunch of giggling girls, who just last term had avoided him like the plague, followed him everywhere. Sitting up late, in the Gryffindor common room was the most quiet he'd had since he'd returned to Hogwarts. All he'd ever wanted was to be normal. But no. Last year most people had treated him like he was dirt on their shoes, but now they expected him to save them, because he was the Chosen One. It was his _job_ to save them. It didn't help that he wasn't getting much sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Sirius' shocked face as he fell through the veil. So instead, he sat there, staring into the flames, no matter how tired he'd be tomorrow.

"Harry?" called a soft voice from behind him, breaking him out of his trance. He felt a small, delicate hand on his shoulders. Ginny. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, his voice hoarse, from lack of use. He didn't turn to look at her, even when he felt her sit down next to him.

"Liar," she said quietly, "but then it was a bit of a stupid question really, considering."

They sat there in awkward silence for while until Ginny broke it.

"You should get some sleep Harry, its late, you're going to be tired in the morning."

"You're one to talk," he said, finally turning to look at her. She was wearing a flowery nightdress, a old, tattered dressing gown and slippers, and when he looked into her warm brown eyes, instead of pity and awe, he just saw worry and concern.

"Nightmares," she replied shrugging slightly, gazing into his eyes. She cocked her head and frowned slightly, then reached out and smoothed out the creases on his brow. Her hand was soft and warm and he felt strangely sad when she moved it away.

Silence fell again, but this time there was no tension, and Harry finally relaxed for the first time in months, as Ginny's arms came round him in a reassuring embrace.

"It's not your fault you know," she whispered in his ear as she hugged him, "he wouldn't blame you." She pulled back to look him in the eye. "If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me."

He just nodded, already missing her warm embrace. She smiled again and kissed his cheek softly.

"Goodnight Harry."

As she stood, he remembered how Tom Riddle, the young Voldemort, had tricked her into trusting him, and then used her to open the Chamber of Secrets and set the Basilisk on the students. He thought about the small, vulnerable girl who had been so terrified she was going to be expelled, after he'd rescued her from the Chamber and wondered when she'd turned into this confident young woman. And he wondered how he'd missed it.

"Wait," he said softy, reaching out to catch her wrist as she turned to leave. "Please. Stay."

"Of course," she said, smiling sadly, sitting down and curling up next to him. Pulling her close, he buried his face in her sweet smelling hair. He found didn't mind Ginny being here, because she didn't pity him or try and fix him. She understood him.

Perhaps he wasn't so alone after all.


End file.
